Life is a chain of endless incompatibilities. He lived as best he could, wanted to do a lot. Did almost nothing. And my forty years are already running out, and no one will return the path I have traveled.
Why have I been searching for truth in myself lately? Because I couldn't find it among others...
Why are my truths so different from the basic biblical commandments?
Because breaking these commandments is life?
Why do we pray so earnestly, if our whole life is a story of the fall? What will we expect on the eve of the Last Judgment? Forgiveness? Mercy? Revelations?
I have not found the truth among others, I have not found the truth in myself, perhaps because there is none. There is a feeling of truth, to which we approach all our lives and leave without approaching ...
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